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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495356">His web of crimson lies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirai227/pseuds/Mirai227'>Mirai227</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cults, Depression, Do not read this if you're sensitive to any of the tags, Fear, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infidelity, Intrigue, Manipulation, Missing Persons, Multi, Murder Mystery, Non-Linear Narrative, Psychological Horror, Serial Killers, Suspense, Tragic Romance, Triggers, Violence, multi-strand narrative</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:55:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirai227/pseuds/Mirai227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years ago, Eren Jaeger disappeared, leaving behind a fractured family, a devastated best friend and a boyfriend who would go on to spend years hopelessly questioning what went wrong.</p><p>Now, Armin Arlert, the boyfriend of the boy who had left so many years ago, is a detective inspector for the Trost police department who is determined to discover what happened to Eren all those years ago. Meanwhile, his squad are assigned to a case after the vicious murder of Mayor Rod Reiss, the most high profile victim yet of an enigmatic killer named Orakçi.</p><p>As Armin delves deeper into this horrific case, his findings start to hit disturbingly close to home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Add as I go - Relationship, Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager, Hange Zoë/Levi, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mikasa Ackerman/Sasha Blouse, Nanaba/Mike Zacharias, Reiner Braun/Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss, past Erwin Smith/Marie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Execution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Armin wakes up beneath a grey ceiling with cracks snaking their way across the moulding cement, delicate flakes of dried paint fluttering down to his face. When he breathes, a stabbing pain pierces his side and an agonised gasp escapes him. His entire body is mottled with bruises. At only the slightest movements, they pulse and sting. He is lying on a thin, coarse mattress and a blanket riddled with holes has been tossed across him. Grimacing, he glances down the sheet and blinks in surprise when he notices that his stomach is wrapped tightly with bandages. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, he hears the soft shift of someone moving and whips his head in the direction of the noise, cringing when that sends ripples of pain shuddering through his body. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cynical green eyes meet his and for a moment, Armin can't breathe. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eren smiles fondly at him. </em>
</p><p><em> " </em> <b> <em>Hey Armin</em> </b> <em> ." </em></p><hr/><p>“Christa Renz” was perfect. It was a given, something never questioned by most (an accomplishment Historia was quite proud of actually).</p><p>“Christa” was small and sweet, with honey blonde hair framing a kind cherubic face set with bright blue eyes and a shy ready smile. “Christa” never swore or spoke ill of anyone and always made sure to be the one to intervene during a conflict, forever the placating, innocent saviour. “Christa” had befriended the abrasive, vulgar, gangly girl who sat sneering at the back of the class because “Christa” pitied her and had decided to take her under her wing. “Christa” was dating that gorgeous lacrosse player from the university and all those rumours about her having a crush on her callous, and undoubtedly female, best friend were complete nonsense. </p><p> </p><p>“Christa” was so disgustingly perfect that Historia felt sick to the core just thinking about her. Pity she loathed Historia even more.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, the graceful mask of “Christa” had been discarded, revealing the person Historia hated most. Cynical, harsh icy eyes, an unhappy grimace weighing down a lovely face. The hideous bare truth smeared all over her now dull, sallow skin. It was the honesty she kept suppressed as “Christa” sludging up to the surface.</p><p> </p><p>Her rare moments of undiluted authenticity had always been reserved for one person: her father, mayor Rod Reiss. She met him once every week, Sunday at precisely 11 PM. Always through the back door: did she want the neighbours, or worse, the press to see her? God forbid they discover the decisively unflattering reality that the esteemed Rod Reiss had knocked up the housemaid (who was interestingly not his wife), and that now his secret daughter was living a lie in return for a considerable amount of money. Oh no, no, no, no, no dreadful business like that was unbecoming of such an honourable gentleman.</p><p> </p><p>When Historia Reiss entered the night-smothered home, her father's personal assistant had greeted her, politely pointing to the end of the gilded hallway. A few minutes later, the same assistant saw her stumble back through the door, trembling, an ashy white face staring in horror, shaking her head slightly as she whispered over and over again “oh god, oh god, Jesus please god no, not this”. An ear-splitting scream snapped through the air as the assistant stared at the blood dripping from Historias hands, her clothes drenched in an unmistakable, horrifying crimson.</p><hr/><p>Miles away, Armin Arlert was wrenched from his nightmares with a shuddering gasp, lingering green eyes fading into his subconscious.  </p><p>Armin scrambled to the bathroom and fumbled for the handle, before plunging his hands into numbingly cold water and frantically throwing it at his burning skin, letting the freezing droplets trickle down his shirt. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin stang and those pinpricks of pain were all he could focus on. Skin now scarlet and raw, he slumped against the sink and breathed heavily, trying to calm his heart, inhaling and exhaling until his body stopped trembling.</p><p> </p><p>Thudding in his chest, his heart slowed down from a sprint to a slow steady jog and he sat there, quiet, the plopping of dripping water from the tap being the only noise he could hear. Only wisps and echoes of his dream remained floating about his sleep-soaked mind and he flinched whenever the blurring snapshots gained some resolution. Then like some strange intrusive thought, a memory crept into his head, becoming clearer and clearer and louder until --- </p><p>
  <em> “-came back? Are you kidding?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Exactly! He started spouting all this bullshit about how he ‘had to leave’ and that I’d understand one day. Moron didn’t realise that it wasn’t just the divorce I was angry about. He had two fucking wives! He’s been lying to mum for years! What kind of sick fuck- god, who the hell does he think he is?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In the warm autumnal light, his copper skin gleamed slightly with sweat as they trekked through the forest. Armin was stumbling across the minefield of winding tree roots jutting out of the dense greenery beside Mikasa, who was smoothly hopping from stump to stump with the agility of a young deer and Eren was leaping over the crumbling remains of a stone wall spitting with fury.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Armin gave him a sympathetic smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How has your mum been doing recently?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Good…I mean, after they signed the papers she was quiet for a few days, but I think she’s doing pretty well.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eren quietened down for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing and the corner of his lips turning down slightly like he was considering something unpleasant. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I...there’s something not right about it all.  Why the hell did….why did he say that?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s just a sleaze, don’t let-.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Not my dad.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh?” Mikasa said, curiously turning back to look at them, a hint of interest darting through her solemn grey eyes, “You mean-.” </em>
</p><p>--- All of a sudden, he was crouched in his meager bathroom with the shrill ringing of his phone alarm cutting through the silence like a blade. Armin forced himself to his feet, and staggered to his bedroom, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. </p><p>His voice was quiet and slow when he grumbled, “What is it?”</p><p>“Fucking finally, I’ve called you about six times, why weren’t you answering?”</p><p>Jean’s voice was laced with irritation, but also some concern and wariness. Arrogance usually saturated every word he spoke, but for once it seemed forced, unstable and artificial, a quality that seemed foreign to the attitude Armin had grown accustomed to over the years. </p><p>“Jean, it’s….,” he glanced over at the clock on his wall, “...it’s 5 AM, I was asleep. What’s wrong?”</p><p>Grimly, Jean responded with, “Six hours ago, Rod Reiss’s body was found in his living room by his personal secretary and another girl. Don’t ask who, I don’t know. Paramedics tried to resuscitate him but he was….he’d been dead for a while now, and he was past saving by the time they arrived. CSI’s took a look - probably still are - and we’ve taken in the two witnesses from the house. They’re at the station now and Marco is getting their accounts of what they think happened. Hange would prefer it if you were here, so...just, get to the station as soon as possible, before Connie passes out or something. The entire major crime team is being briefed at 7, and we need you there.”</p><p>“R-right, I- shit. <em> Shit </em>. Ok, uh, I’ll be there in about half an hour.”</p><p>“Hurry up.” Jean curtly responded, before ending the call, leaving Armin both dumbfounded and somehow….fascinated.</p><p>He leaned back against the wall, letting the cold seep into his bones as an image of the now-deceased mayor from a few years ago crossed his mind's eye. Armin had been given an award and attended a ceremony in the heart of Sina. It had been the first time he met the man. Mikasa had also been attending, since she was also receiving a medal. It was difficult sorting through those fading memories, but amidst the blur of dull speeches and fuzzy, alcohol-induced laughter, a few snapshots of the mayor filtered through. Some dim, barely recalled details pertaining to the man flitted through, something odd that had made him uneasy.</p><p>Perhaps it had been his general demeanor, but Armin had never liked him. Around him, there had always been a creeping sense that he was an unsuspecting player in an elaborate game. What kind of game was a secret known only to Reiss and he relished in sinister amusement as he watched his opponents scramble to keep up.</p><p>At the ceremony, they had sat there for hours as officials Armin had never heard of had monotonously dragged on and on. The reception after had been a cross between energetic and raucous, and cautious. Rod himself had been missing, and though he could not remember exactly why, something had felt off. </p><p>Then again, everything about him had felt odd, so perhaps Armin was reading into all of this a bit too much. It may have been unprofessional, but he could safely say that after the initial shock wore off, the fact that this was where Rod Reiss had ended up was no surprise to him.</p><hr/><p>Rust stained the crinkled roof of the warehouse, looming over the bare filthy floors. Pooled in corners from the storm the previous morning, grey puddles of rain settled unpleasantly sneaking into the man’s thin shoes. Slowly, they crawled to the scarlet splattered across his worn jeans, sending muddy burgundy sliding into the pool below.</p><p>He glanced down into the plastic bag where the binder was uncomfortably squashed. Emblazoned across the front of it’s picketed leather front, Rod Reiss’s cloudy blue eyes stared back from the grainy photograph.</p><p>Beneath it, in carefully blocked handwriting, words had been written.</p><p>‘A city infested with monsters screams for justice, so it marches forward, blade in hand. First execution, of the king who led them merrily down, lower and lower, until their vision is encompassed in darkness. Justice lit a match tonight. Will the city open their tired eyes, and let themselves be brought to the sky?’</p><p>He flung the bag across a discarded crate and then he marched away through the empty, gaunt building into the indiscernible flow of life streaming through the streets, melting into them like a gust of wind in a raging thunderstorm. </p><p>He had thrown down his glove. Time to see who was brave enough to pick it up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Unknown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter begins with a graphic description of a corpse. There are also multiple references to extremely violent murders, and a passing reference to sexual assault and prostitution.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Molbit didn't like blood, but ever since he had become a CSI, it had become something of an occupational hazard. He wasn't immune to the feeling of repulsion which crawled up his throat whenever he saw a corpse lying before him, but it didn't make him feel faint like it had the first time. It was a good thing too because Rod Reiss' shredded corpse would send most people sprinting for the door.<br/><br/>Sprawled across the lush red and gold carpet, the corpse of Rod lay, his last moments lingering in the twisted crane of his neck, a scream etched on the contorted white face. Below the limp sandy hair sticking to his forehead, where his beady watery blue eyes should have been darting about, corrugated flesh craters oozed thick, scarlet blood dripping across his dull skin. They bled slowly into the powdery blue material of his shirt, perfuming the body in its cloying metallic stench. Reiss' body had been ravaged. The flesh had yielded to the relentless attack of the murderer's blades, leaving behind a hacked slab of meat where his torso should have been. Molbit swallowed and raised the camera, snapping a photo of the horrific sight before him. <br/><br/>He was getting used to seeing Orakçi's kills.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Orakçi's first kills - or at least the first obvious ones - had been of the leaders of a child trafficking ring deep in the infamous Maria. They had been found in their bedrooms, appearing to have been viciously murdered and their bodies brutalised. Each of them had been stabbed a dozen or so times and had their eyes gouged out, their hands cut off, and deep cuts carved into their arms and legs. Crimson droplets had splattered the walls of their bedrooms, and at that moment, Maria had frozen. <br/><br/>Everybody knew about them, everyone had, or at least knew someone who had fallen victims to the gangs which protected them. There were parents who had their children stolen by them and had been treading through months of lifeless living with glassy eyes and a cold spot on beds where small bodies should have warmed it. <br/><br/>Everyone - the police, the Marians, the press - had thought that it was a one-off incident. That someone had pissed the wrong person off and that the whole ring had gone down as a result. But then, on a warm morning in a coffee shop just on the edge of Maria, a customer whose face nobody saw arrived and gave a confused barista a binder spilling with pages, and politely asked her to call the police and give it to them. Whoever it had been, they had disappeared into the streets, and not one person had been able to describe his face since he had been wearing a cap hung low on his face, and a bandana concealing his nose and mouth. <br/><br/>The barista had frowned and opened the file. As she had read the first page, the colour drained from her pale face, and she had immediately called the police. Hands trembling, she had informed them that a mysterious stranger had just given her a file that appeared to contain details about the criminal lives of the child traffickers who had been killed the previous week. <br/><br/>It was damning. Incredibly so. The file contained a comprehensive record dating back six years that had revealed the extent of their violent pasts in excruciating detail. Directions had been given to places where the police could find evidence of their misgivings. The file listed the names of eight hundred and seventy-six. It was the takedown of the century and had stunned the world. <br/><br/>For weeks, one question had been on the lips of everyone in the country: who had done this? It was clear that they were not working alone, but this seemed less like the actions of a bitter gang who had been pissed off one too many times. This had been meticulously planned and was years in the making. <br/><br/>Armin wished he knew who had done it, but not even he had been able to figure out who it was. When it came down to it, he was just as clueless as everyone else. A few months passed, and it seemed as though the incident was a one-off, and interest in the media had waned as time went on, though conversations on the internet were still furiously persisting. Everything seemed to have calmed down, and people were moving on, but then it happened again. <br/><br/>Three miles away from Trost police department, in the quaint district of Sina, an old man's mutilated corpse was found hung in his garden, his body destroyed as the traffickers had been. Right in the back garden of the Trost police department, the enigmatic killer from months ago had struck again, and the results were both spectacular and completely, and utterly horrific. It was, all in all, a shitshow. <br/><br/>The moment that the story broke, the press had erupted, and questions that Armin couldn't even begin to answer were being thrown from every direction, and he could barely manage to keep up with it all. <br/><br/>The file arrived the day after the murder revealing the man's identity as a pimp who had run a brothel over in Maria. Women had repeatedly reported being assaulted by staff and clients. Like before, the names of everyone who had perpetuated these problems were listed with evidence coherently presented beneath each name. When the file arrived, that was when it crossed the line from "one-time miracle" to "an actual thing". <br/><br/>Armin thought about the photos of the bodies that he had seen. He thought of the way that they had been so freely destroyed. Like they had been attacked by a malevolent demon, with no thought of anyone else, or consequences. Like god himself had come down and unleashed punishment on these people, the worst that humanity could offer. <br/><br/>Like rage had taken up a blade and cut and torn and hurt until it's executioner's axe was dripping with thick, dark blood. <br/><br/>Armin remembered a low, bitter voice seething "Every last one. I'll fucking kill them" and sat wearily as the reckoning unfolded before him, the ghost of a time long past lapping at his feet. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Caven was an immensely talented liar, so it was no problem to fake hysteria and an endless stream of crocodile tears whenever anyone tried to ask her a question. The young freckled detective had, in what she assumed was a poor attempt to calm her down, draped a comforting (?) arm around her shoulder. Right now, he was gently patting her arm murmuring about how sorry he was that she had to deal with such a terrible thing happening to such an incredible man. <br/><br/>It was all rubbish really; she knew damn well that there was not one soul in Paradis who would grieve for Rod Reiss. He had been smarmy at the best of times, and every person who he had surrounded himself with was only there out of necessity. God knew she didn't care and neither would Kenny, or any of the other people who worked for him. <br/><br/>If it weren't for the unfortunate issue of the file, then she would've amicably found another job helping some other rich twat protect himself, and forgotten about the whole thing altogether. However, with that bastard Orakçi, it appeared that she would be stuck in this mess for a lot longer. <br/><br/>Fear's tenacious fingers stroked her back as she thought about what would happen to her if Kenny found out that she had let Orakçi slip through her fingers. God, he had been <em>right there</em>, just a few metres away from her, murdering Reiss while she had sat outside, bored out of her mind. <br/><br/>How? How had he managed to kill him without her noticing anything? Caven was good at her job - there was a reason that Kenny had let her stick around for so long - so there was no way she wouldn't have noticed if someone had come inside, but Reiss was having his corpse inspected right now so she clearly must have. <br/><br/>Yesterday had risen from the fleeing mores of the night and dawned a miserable, drizzling grey, with the rain pitter-pattering on the tile roof of Reiss' house in a comforting thrum, soothing her soul as a lullaby would to a child. He had stayed in the house all day, with not a single kink of discomfort disrupting his impeccably crafted expression. Kenny had visited him earlier on in the day to give him the rundown on a new gang emerging from the corner of Maria. Once Reiss had deemed the group not to be a threat to the orderly chaos he reigned over, Kenny had left, and for a few hours, all was well. <br/><br/>Then Reiss's daughter had arrived, and it had all gone to hell. <br/><br/>She racked her memories over and over again of those few hours where her boss had surely been killed, but could not find a single suspicious thing to explain, even slightly, what had happened. <br/><br/>It made her uneasy, the thought of a group having the skill to infiltrate Reiss' house and kill him, all without making a sound. That kind of power was beyond anything she had ever seen. It scared her. <br/><br/>The most she could do now was make sure that Kenny reached the file before the police did. <br/><br/>"Miss Taylor?" <br/><br/>She gave an affected jerk at the sound of her alias. <br/><br/>"Would you like to talk to me now?" <br/><br/>"Yes...I think I can say what happened now," she sniffed, "it's all so awful though…." <br/><br/>"I know, I know," the man replied sympathetically, "but it would help us a lot. Now, can you tell me if anything suspicious happened today?" <br/><br/>Kenny needed to find that file before they did. They would all be screwed if he didn't. She couldn't do much right now, but she could slow them down. <br/><br/>"Well….now that I think about it…." <br/><br/>Spinning her lies and half-truths, Caven hoped to god that Kenny knew how to handle what the fuck was going on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't really have an excuse for why this took so long to update. Ah well, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, I am fully open to any criticism of this fanfiction, because I want to improve my writing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Discovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A pale, weeping day greets Armin as he leaves the warmth of his apartment and into the sinking chill of the morning. Summer's hold on Paradis has weakened, and as indeed as the relentless tide of the sea, Autumn has flooded the skies, seeping into the once shining days, dragging with it a bleak, blank grey sky, groaning storms and an ever-present icy coldness, which was currently nipping at Armin's scarlet cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>Strangely enough, it gave him comfort. Summer only reminded him of what he no longer had. Who he no longer had. </p><p> </p><p>The roads were mostly empty, with only a few people hurrying through the darkened streets. None of them were aware of the horrific event that happened a mere few hours ago, and it felt surreal to watch an old woman and a teenage boy smiling and talking with each other as they made their way out of a corner shop, blissfully ignorant of the chaos that was about to beset them. </p><p> </p><p>Armin's car was parked just outside the block, before the glaring lights of a supermarket. Getting inside, he huffed a cold breath and rubbed his palms together for warmth. Spluttering to life, his car rumbled awake and left the parking lot, sending pale yellow light splashed across the road before him.</p><p> </p><p>The journey lasted only fifteen minutes, and as soon as he arrived outside the station, he was dismayed to see a crowd of reporters lurking outside. As soon as they saw him, they ran towards his car, shouting questions and blinding him with lights' flashing from cameras. He ignored them and drove past into the parking lot, where he noticed someone else waiting for him, arms crossed, and an uncomfortable expression on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Leaving the car, he nodded in greeting. </p><p> </p><p>"Jean." </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Armin."</p><p> </p><p>An awkward silence faltered between them as Armin scrambled for something to say. After all, what on earth did you say to someone in a situation like this? </p><p> </p><p>Jean seemed to be facing the same problem before he cleared his throat and said, "Christ...this is a shitshow, isn't it? Hange's having a field day. You should probably shut her up before she ends up getting so excited she forgets that this is a fucking murder we're talking about. Not that she'd care."</p><p> </p><p>A choppy laugh escaped Armin at the thought of their….eccentric squad leader. Hange was interested in murder or, more specifically, murderers (Jean and Connie were convinced it was some kind of weird kink), which probably stemmed from her obsession with true crime. Most of the time, it was funny, but others left Armin with a sick taste in his mouth and were the reason he had always kept their relationship strictly professional. </p><p> </p><p>"What's she been saying?" he winced slightly. </p><p> </p><p>"Rabid. You should have seen her when she found out - I think she almost pissed herself. She…," a shadow seemed to cross Jeans' face as he lowered his voice slightly and said, "She's convinced that it's Orakçi."</p><p> </p><p>Armin froze when he heard that. If this was really Orakçi, then the whole thing was so much worse than he had thought. Hange may be crazy, but she was sharp and intelligent, and her theories were almost always right.</p><p> </p><p>"Is-," he swallowed down the dread, "Is she certain?"</p><p> </p><p>"Positive. And...Armin, I think so too. From what we've heard, his body was completely destroyed. Either it's Orakçi, or it's a copycat, and I really don't think it's the latter." Jean grimly responded.</p><p> </p><p>A creeping kind of fear shuddered through Armin's body as he thought of the faceless killer. Any person or group with that kind of power was not to be trifled with, and it scared him when he thought of what would happen if they got angry about his squad investigating them.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's get inside. Everyone's being briefed in an hour and a half. Might as well prepare ourselves for the worst." </p><p> </p><p>"Ok." </p><p> </p><p>Paying no mind to the relentless shouts of the press, they walked inside the station. </p><hr/><p>Trost was nestled at the crook of Rose, sitting comfortably at the borders between Rose and Maria. The district was stuck in a strange sort of twilight zone between the luxuries of Sina and the rundown poverty of Maria. A patchwork of suburban stretches of land, and towering grey apartment blocks, with rows of semi-modern houses stitching them haphazardly together, had been thrown across the land, all of them leaning and melting into each until the whole district was a melting pot of culture. </p><p> </p><p>At the fraying edge of this, Trost was a reasonably well-kept area that teemed with life and twenty-something graduates looking for a new direction for life to tug them to. The place seemed to attract the directionless and fling them into a whirlwind of vibrant city life. People came here seeking purpose and usually found it. Trost was not lavishly wealthy, but it was also stable and safe in a way that made it the perfect testing ground for thousands to experiment and start their lives.</p><p> </p><p>It was enough like home to be comforting but not so close as to be painful. That was why Armin had moved there.</p><p> </p><p>He had come here hoping to find a new purpose, a new centre around which he would orbit, but he didn't think that he had found it yet. After graduating early from the police academy, he had almost immediately found a job as a detective at the Trost police department, and he had spent the last three years tentatively slipping into a cycle in which he could lose himself. </p><p> </p><p>He guessed that it worked in a way; wake up, breakfast, meds, work, home, sleep, and wake up again to start all over. It gave him a distraction from his own head, and his therapist told him it was good to keep busy and not dwell on the past like he did when left to his own devices for too long. Trost was home to the organised chaos that he loved to delve into, and that had kept him sane for the past several years.</p><p> </p><p>Mikasa was not like that. She craved stability and the sweet comforts of a mundane life more than anything else, but she loved Armin too much to leave him alone, so she had come with him to Trost, where she had proven herself to be an adept police officer. Many were baffled when they found out how a girl of her talents had ended up as a police officer. They couldn't fathom the love that Mikasa Ackerman had in her heart. Armin doubted that many could.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes he wished she would just leave him and live her own life peacefully, but other times, like now, waiting for Erwin to start the meeting, he was glad for her steady warmth by his side.</p><p> </p><p>Dozens of people were crammed into the conference room, murmuring to each other about the events of the previous night.</p><p> </p><p>"I mean, I already knew that there was something dodgy about him, but it must have been bad if Orakçi targeted him."</p><p> </p><p>"There was a girl there, wasn't there? Do you think she had something to do with it?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think so. She looked so young! It'd be weird if she was, considering she called the police."</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe she was just trying to throw off suspicion?"</p><p> </p><p>"Let's not jump to any conclusions. She might be innocent."</p><p> </p><p>Before the other detective could reply, someone else spoke.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning, everyone."</p><p> </p><p>At the low timbre of Erwin Smiths' rich voice, Armin's head snapped up, and the detectives behind him shut up quickly, looking up to the towering man before him. Erwin's presence had a calming effect. He emanated quiet charisma, and this left most people hanging onto his every word. </p><p> </p><p>"As you all know, Rod Reiss was found murdered last night at 11 pm. Our team will be focusing on finding out who did it and how, for the next several weeks. We have reason to believe that this is part of the Orakçi case."</p><p> </p><p>The room erupted into questions and urgent whispers, with an undercurrent of fear woven through and a tint of morbid fascination. </p><p> </p><p>"However, until a file is found, then we cannot confirm this. I would like Officer Connie and Mina's squad to go and look for the file. In fact, I'd like them to do it immediately. I suggest staying in Rose, in the parts closer to Sina. It would fit with the pattern of Orakçi's previous actions."</p><p> </p><p>Connie stood up, along with Mina and her squad, all filing out of the room, trying to keep the fear from breaking through the surface of their expressions.</p><p> </p><p>"Rod Reiss was a caucasian, middle-aged cisgender man who, until recently, worked as the Mayor of Paradis. He was found with his eyes gouged out, arms and legs broken, and incisions covering his entire torso. He was announced dead at the scene." </p><p> </p><p>Erwin's blunt and choppy words left a sick feeling in Armin's stomach as he heard of the way Reiss had been mutilated. Every time he heard about Orakçi's kills, it terrified him. No person or group should have that kind of power. Butchering a person's body like that was personal. An assassin did not mutilate someone; they killed them, and then they left. This was pure vitriol, and the results had been deadly and spectacular.</p><p> </p><p>Armin wondered if Orakçi thought they were a hero. It would figure if they did.</p><p> </p><p>The meeting dragged on, and Armin tried to listen, but he couldn't stop thinking about Orakçi and all he had done. Armin had a feeling they had seen only a hint of what Orakçi was capable of, and he dreaded to discover how far he would go to continue this strange mission of his. </p><p> </p><p>Mikasa's hand covered his in a silent question. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Are you ok? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He squeezed back and nodded, finding comfort in the warmth of her hand on his. </p><p> </p><p>She knew why he was worried; they had no idea what Orakçi would do to them if they started to grow closer to them and inch towards the hidden conclusion of this story. </p><p> </p><p>They were all dancing on the edge of a knife, and Armin wondered how long it would be until they slipped and were cut in half.  </p><hr/><p>The coiling, metallic scent of blood crawled up Connie's nostrils as soon as he entered the warehouse. It was almost overpowered by the musky odour of the building itself, but it was there. Fear was a near-constant presence in Connie's life, and it was no different now, shuddering through him and making the hands pointing his gun shake slightly. He and the other officers with him took a nervous couple of steps into the building, eyes darting about and breaths short and quick. </p><p> </p><p>They surveyed the rest of the warehouse wordlessly, and some breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they noticed that there was no one to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>Connie quickly walked over to the centre of the smudgy grey floor, where a plastic bag had been haphazardly flung across the crates and, trembling slightly, picked it up to look inside.</p><p> </p><p>Rod Reiss' face was frozen in time, trapped in a photograph, bound to the front of a file that undoubtedly would lead to his memory being reduced to tatters. </p><p> </p><p>Connie remembered the personal assistant and wondered if she had anything to do with this because it seemed that the information she had given them was incorrect. Interesting.</p><p> </p><p>Grimly, he spoke out to his team, "We've found the file. Now let's find out what the hell Reiss was doing to end up dead."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hated writing this lol, but it was unavoidable. I'm not satisfied with it, but I needed to finish and post it in order to prevent myself from entering into ANOTHER 10 month slump. I'm hoping to post either every Sunday, or every other Sunday. Is this how an actual brief would work? Probably not. Do I care? No. I hope you enjoyed it! I am open to any and all criticism of this fic, because I want to improve my writing.</p><p>EDIT: ok so I've decided I'm going to post every other Sunday so I can avoid what happened with this one, and put out higher quality writing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the precious 24 hours following Reiss' slaughter, Paradis awoke to the news of the murder and, in what could be considered the largest display of performative grief ever to be seen before, collectively started the public efforts to memorialise him. <br/>
<br/>
Instagram pages heralded with pictures of him cropped up all over the internet, and newscasters gravely gave meaningless condolences to those close to Reiss, as if close personal bonds were a thing that Reiss was privy to. People who had never met him murmured in low voices about how terrible the whole thing was and what a distinguished gentleman he was. <br/>
<br/>
However, running beneath the surface of these discussions was a morbid fascination that had wormed under the farce and begun to find a home in the hearts of the people of Paradis. Reiss had been murdered. That meant there was a murderer. Whoever it had been, this news was sure to fuel heated discussions all over the city and on the internet. Even now, kids at school were furiously discussing the previous nights' happenings with manic fervour, and families were fearfully murmuring over breakfast. <br/>
<br/>
There was an edge to it all, the kind you get when you say something, which is probably pretty awful, but at this point, you don't even care. After all, it seemed to be in poor taste to talk about murder like it was just a particularly riveting episode of a drama.<br/>
<br/>
For 6 short hours, Reiss' memory shone like a beacon, untarnished by ugly things like reality and truth.<br/>
<br/>
Then the file was found, and all that goodwill came thundering back down to earth. </p>
<hr/><p>Jean was a strange one. He was serious when it came to his work, but Armin always felt a distinct melancholy in his words that all the bravado in the world couldn't hide. <br/>
<br/>
Armin remembered a conversation they had had last year, after a night of quiet drinking and fun, where their squad had spent hours sleepily giggling and trying to get Connie to utter a coherent sentence. <br/>
<br/>
<em>"The last time I had this much fun was in sixth form." He chuckled, the dark blonde tips of his hair falling over his unusually hazy eyes. <br/>
<br/>
</em><em>"Marco and I went to this girl's house, and she gave us this fucking awful drink, and we ended up having so much that we lost our shit while we were there, and she actually kicked us out. It was fucking amazing."<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>Warmth softened the hardened edges of his expression as the memories ran across his face. He was different today, more open, with a sleepy kind of amiability around him. Jean usually overcompensated his lack of social...well, anything, by acting like an overenthusiastic frat brother from a bad 80s film, and that had made Armin wary of him at first. However, he had come to realise that beneath all that, he was sharp as a knife, and out of all them, had the strongest moral compass.<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>“Things were so fun back then. No responsibilities. No problems. Just...being a dumbass teenager and not giving a fuck.”<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>The smile wilted slightly on his lips as he continued, a harder edge to his voice.<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>"You know, Armin, I wanted to work in the city council. Not any of the shitty secretary jobs. I wanted to be at the top. I saw my mum and dad work their asses off every day, and I thought 'fuck that, I'm gonna be one of those rich pigs up in Sina."<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>A derisive laugh escaped him, "That was a fucking lie, wasn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>He poured another shot for himself with surprisingly steady hands and tipped it back quickly, grimacing slightly as the fiery liquid poured down his throat. <br/>
<br/>
</em><em>Armin had never heard Jean talk like this before. It was disconcerting but intriguing at the same time. It was the first time he'd seen something more substantial behind the gaudy façade Jean proudly wore. <br/>
<br/>
</em><em>"Do you want to know why I gave that up? Apart from the fact that it was fucking ridiculous, of course."<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>Jean looked at Armin with a look that bordered on taunting, swinging his hand sloppily to rest on Armin's shoulder. <br/>
<br/>
</em><em>"If you want to." Armin tentatively replied. <br/>
<br/>
</em><em>"This girl who used to work at my sixth form got killed. It was on the news for like, a day, and then everyone just carried on like nothing happened. She had a kid too, I think."<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>Eyes now darkened with a bitter kind of anger that felt uncomfortably familiar to Armin, he continued. His voice was low and measured, calm in a way that promised a storm. <br/>
<br/>
</em><em>"She got knocked up by this guy a few years before who sounded like he was way too old for her. I think he must've paid her to shut up about the whole thing. It was...fucking shitty. She wasn't- we weren't close. She was really cold and kind of a bitch but-," he sucked in a seething breath, "-she didn't fucking deserve that."<br/>
<br/>
</em><em>A more determined streak suddenly crossed his expression </em>.</p><p>
  <em>"The police made no arrests. The whole thing was fucking dismal. I saw that, and...it made me look at myself and how I wanted people to see me. I figured...I might as well try and make sure the same thing didn't happen to another person." <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>Jean cleared his throat slightly and leaned back, “Anyway, that’s why I joined the police. What about you?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>A tired smile played on the corner of his lips. <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"Why’d you join the police? With a brain like yours, I’m surprised that you wasted your talent here. You and Mikasa both.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>Armin felt...he wasn't sure. This whole thing felt incredibly familiar. <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>He cautiously sat down beside Jean and quietly started speaking.<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"I joined the police because my boyfriend wanted to. He was...he had a strong sense of justice, you know? Like, he was so passionate, and it just inspired me. I thought...ever since I was a kid, I thought I would go to the end of the world for him. He was so charismatic and strong and brave, and I'd have followed him anywhere."<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>Eren had been incredible. Armin had yet to meet someone with such a burning desire to make the world better than it was. He remembered the way that Eren’s eyes had lit up with dreams of a future that had always seemed just put out of reach. A light that Eren had followed until....he couldn’t. <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>Jean looked mildly interested and gruffly said, "He sounds like he was a cool guy. What's he doing now?"<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"He disappeared 8 years ago.” <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>The words were short and quiet. <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>“The police...everyone thinks that he's dead. His dad was found with his ex-wife's and this girl that my boyfriend used to be friends with's bodies. I think she was called Annie. They never found a body, but the police believed that Eren was probably killed by him and that his body was just hidden."<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>Feigned apathy kept his voice steady, and Jean was looking at him with pity mixed with caution on his face. <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"You don't believe them, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"No."<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>A sigh.<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"Armin-."<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>"I can't believe that he's dead. You said so yourself; the police have been awful so far. They handled Eren's disappearance terribly. He's alive. I know he is."<br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>He thought of Eren and the way that fire had burnt him up inside and wreathed his ideals. How Armin had been infatuated with that burning light that was fierce and bright and so very alive. A light like that couldn't just be put out. Not without one hell of a fight. <br/>
<br/>
</em>
  <em>Eren was alive. Armin knew it, and he had to find him.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The day dwindled and fettered off into its weary conclusion, and in a conference room in the Trost police department’s station, revelations were being made.<br/>
<br/>
Over a press conference, Erwin Smith gravely informed the ravenous press that, yes, Reiss had been killed by Orakçi and the reason why was that Reiss had been leading a gang in Maria. The gang was responsible for the deaths of at least 300 people, one of whom was the housemaid who used to work for him.<br/>
<br/>
"We have also been forced to reopen the cases of the disappearance of his family, as in the wake of this homicide, new evidence has arisen. I will not be answering any questions about this case as of the present moment."<br/>
<br/>
Shouts had followed him as he leaned back from the microphone, his face impassive. Like the glassy surface of a darkened ocean, not a single emotion escaped the confines of his mind and broke to his face. He might as well have been dead.<br/>
<br/>
Armin often wondered what had happened to make him like that. As cold as the brittle break of a winter's dawn. <br/>
<br/>
He wondered what it would take to turn him into that, and it sent a thrum of discomfort through his squirming soul.<br/>
<br/>
Armin, Erwin, Hange and Mikasa all quietly filed out of the room with not a word directed towards the press. They left through the back, the door swinging shut, muffling the cacophony in the conference room.<br/>
<br/>
Walking back to the end of the hallway, the silence hung heavy between them, and unsaid words insistently clawed at their throats until-<br/>
<br/>
"Erwin, please, if the file is telling the truth, then we have to arrest Aurille and the others. Why the hell didn't you say anything about that?" Hange burst, frustration evident in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't just arrest him, not until we have enough evidence to support it," Erwin replied evenly.<br/>
<br/>
"And we have it! Orakçi handed it to us on a silver platter! Why aren't we making arrests now?" She persisted, desperation corroded the reason that could have been there.<br/>
<br/>
Privately, Armin agreed with her. On the 20th page of the file, a detailed account of how Aurille had been dipping into the city benefit funds to fund his lavish lifestyle was depicted. As per usual, evidence was coherently listed, with names and directions. To Armin's horror, the names listed were of several members of the city council. Many of whom he distinctly remembered had been vocal against the suggestions of an increase in the minimum wage.<br/>
<br/>
Sometimes, he could find it in himself to sympathise with Orakçi's cause because, dear god, this was dire.<br/>
<br/>
"Hange does have a point. Orakçi gave us a good case; why aren't we taking advantage of that?" Mikasa spoke up, confusion and wariness peaking into her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm the head of this department. Trust that I have my reasons and that they are damn good ones."<br/>
<br/>
Erwin's voices were firm, leaving no room for argument, which appeared to chafe at Hange's nerves, but she kept quiet. Erwin was brilliant, and he knew what he was doing. If he was doing this, it was more likely than not that it was for a good reason.<br/>
<br/>
Armin wondered. If Erwin was leaving this, Orakçi would know, and from what Armin had gathered, they would be furious. Fury from something as violent and evil as that was surely going to result in something horrific. <br/>
<br/>
Maybe...maybe, Erwin knew this.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe this was Erwin kicking the hornets' nest just to see how they would react.<br/>
<br/>
Silently, Armin thanked god for making sure he had never ended up as crazy as Erwin Smith.</p><p>“Armin.”<br/>
<br/>
His head jerked up slightly, blue eyes meeting Erwin’s piercing gaze.<br/>
<br/>
“I want you to read the file yourself. The whole thing. Once you’re done, I want you to report to me your thoughts.”<br/>
<br/>
Armin swallowed, and nodded. The thought of an evening spent picking through the crimes of Rod Reiss was an unpleasant one, but he couldn’t imagine disobeying Erwin. Also, he had to admit, he was curious. He had already seen bits of the file, but he had yet to see the whole thing. In a way, he supposed he was morbidly fascinated by the whole thing.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course. I’ll report to you when I can.”<br/>
<br/>
A curt nod.<br/>
<br/>
“Good.”<br/>
<br/>
As they entered the room, Armin wondered; what on earth was Orakçi doing now?</p>
<hr/><p>The TV was old and tiny, wedged in the corner of the room, with faded static images flickering across the front.<br/>
<br/>
Erwin's smith cold blue eyes stared impassively through the screen as he read out the police's statement, eliciting a furious wave of clicking from photographers and a barrage of unanswerable questions flooding in.<br/>
<br/>
The man sat motionless before the screen, a thoughtful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.<br/>
<br/>
Well. Erwin Smith was more daring than he had thought.<br/>
<br/>
He could appreciate what he was trying to do. It was an impressive bet in a game that was as of yet unwinnable. At least, while he was in charge of it.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it wouldn't work. The game was afoot, the final pieces of the puzzle fitting into place. He was patient and had spent years waiting for this moment.<br/>
<br/>
He could wait a little longer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry it took so long to update! Exams are coming up and I have a lot to catch up because of corona. Ask me any questions you want about this fic and I'll try to answer, if you want. As always, I hope you liked it, and I am open to criticism of this fic &lt;3</p><p>EDIT: I made some changes so it looks better than it did before. I'm more satisfied with my writing this time, which is a good feeling! Also, your comments are lovely so thanks for that!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Tragedy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>To Alma, Rod Reiss had never been someone she thought she would give up her life for. <br/><br/></span>He wasn’t particularly handsome or charismatic, and he had always been strange around pretty girls, trying to act some approximation of slick, but failing miserably. <br/><br/><span>At first, she had found it funny. Watching the man inexpertly flirt with her, she had felt far from enamoured, but certainly endeared. He was...not exactly sweet, but around her he was genuine, and she appreciated that about him. Yes, at thirty eight, when compared to her nineteen, he was a little old, but she was an adult and was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. <br/><br/></span>So, in the 3 years she worked in the Reiss house, she had let him flirt and clumsily try and woo her. <br/><br/>As time had gone on, they had grown closer and closer and began to confide in each other. He told her about the frustrations of living in his brother and father’s shadows, and she had sympathised with tales of her no nonsense farmer parents, and how she had always been stuck as second best to her siblings, with nothing but a pretty face to distinguish herself from the rest of them. <br/><br/>He listened to her like nobody else did, and bought her gifts, and took her on elaborate dates when she finally let him. It was nice and fun, so she let their relationship grow closer, letting him project his romantic fantasies onto her. <br/><br/>He wasn’t particularly good at kissing and the one time they had slept together had been painfully awkward, but that seemed strangely irrelevant. <br/><br/>Alma had not loved him. But she liked him, and she supposed that was enough for her. <br/><br/>A year into her relationship with him, Rod had married a plain looking girl (Alma was both flattered and aggravated to learn that the new wife - the bitch - looked like a watered down version of her) from a wealthy family (who from the looks of things, already had a child that looked suspiciously like him), so it seemed like her brief dalliance with him was over. She privately mourned the loss of his attention, but resolutely returned to work as if nothing had changed. <br/><br/>Two months after Reiss’ honeymoon, she had found herself alone with him in the old cosy library, with an awkward silence between them. His attempts at conversation had been met with cold silence, and the awkwardness had grown between them. <br/><br/>So sue her, she was angry. He had made her feel like she was special, like she was someone worth loving, and then he had left her for his perfectly respectable, boring and disgustingly sweet wife, and it felt like she had been slapped across the face. <br/><br/>He had looked slightly helpless, with apologies tripping on his tongue but for once, Alma didn’t listen. <br/><br/>Then, out of nowhere, she felt a hand on her shoulder and as she turned around to snap at him to fuck off, his lips were suddenly on hers. It was unlike any other kiss they had shared before, desperation permeating it with careless abandon.<br/><br/>She had pushed him away immediately shaking slightly as he looked at her with such open want. He had brushed his lips over her fingers and whispered, “please.”<br/><br/>She had never ever in her life thought that she would be a homewrecker. But at that moment, it didn’t seem to matter. With a hesitant dawning helplessness, she came to realize that somewhere along the line, she had started to fall in love with him. It was so awful, but she wanted him. She wanted him so much. <br/><br/>So, with the sun languidly resting on both of their skin, she kissed him, and let the sweeping tides of desire overwhelm her. <br/><br/>Years later, she would look back at that day and weep. <br/><br/>It was the worst decision she ever made.</p><hr/><p><span>On the cream coloured paths set in the frosty grass that carpeted the campus of Trost University, a red headed student was sprinting, panic written all over her face. <br/><br/></span>Above her stars fought through the light polluted evening sky, and the moon shone bright in its place nestled within the clouds. There were few students left on the campus at this point, with most of them back home. <br/><br/>Really, Sasha should have been home too, but her professor piled on another assessment out of nowhere, so she had been forced to stay cooped up in the library, sludging through her course material, and cursing her professor to the devil. <br/><br/>It was only later, with exhaustion mercilessly dragging her into a terrible state between sleep and consciousness, that she saw the time and realised with dawning horror, that her roommate should have arrived to pick her up an hour ago. <br/><br/>The understated black golf car was parked right near the entrance of the car park, and Sasha dived for it, flinging the door open and gasping out a “I’m so sorry!”<br/><br/>Mikasa, still in her (mournfully form fitting) uniform looked up from her phone, dark shadows beneath her grey eyes. <br/><br/>She tilted her head, ebony hair falling onto her shoulders, and quietly (terrifyingly) asked,“What took you so long?”<br/><br/>“Professor Shadis gave us another surprise assessment, and I was revising for it in the library and lost track of time, I’m so so sorry!” she apologised genuinely. <br/><br/>Mikasa looked forward, that passive expression of hers seemingly unperturbed.<br/><br/>“It’s fine. Get in.”<br/><br/>With a sigh of relief, Sasha clambered into the car, slamming the door shut and leaning back onto the achingly comfortable seat. As they left, Sasha contentedly watched the city fly by the window. A comfortable silence settled between them. <br/><br/>“How was work?” Sasha asked. <br/><br/>“Awful.”<br/><br/>Mikasa didn’t elaborate so Sasha sympathetically ‘hmm’d’ and sighed,“Looks like we’re all having a pretty bad day today, huh.”<br/><br/>God knew that Sasha’s had been terrible, and she imagined the shitty luck was affecting everyone today. <br/><br/>For a moment, Mikasa looked at her strangely, but then a flash of realisation sparked in her (truly lovely) grey eyes.<br/><br/>“Don’t you know what happened to Reiss?”<br/><br/>“No? Did something happen?”<br/><br/>Sasha had forgotten to charge her phone last night, so it was useless in the morning. She had then taken the bus straight to class, in complete oppressive silence - after all, Paradis was not exactly renowned for the amicable sociability of its inhabitants - and arrived to class early, listening to music until class started. Shadis ran his lectures like the armies he used to train: relentless and with a shocking amount of work to be done, so Sasha had no chance to talk to her classmates. Then, the old bastard had sprung the assessment on them and Sasha had been trying to put a dent into the content she had to learn right up until Mikasa arrived. <br/><br/>Mikasa spoke, with a terrifying casualness. <br/><br/>“Reiss was killed last night by Orakçi. Speaking of, I’m going to need a favour from you because of that.”<br/><br/><span>What the </span><em><span>fuck</span></em><span>. <br/><br/></span><span>“What?! Is - are you sure? I mean - god </span><em><span>what</span></em><span>?” Sasha spluttered.<br/><br/></span>"Yes. He was stabbed sixteen times, there wasn’t exactly room for interpretation. And we found the file a few hours ago.” <br/><br/>Sasha was reeling. Everybody knew that Reiss was dodgy, but the fact that he was so bad that Orakçi had killed him was unbelievable. <br/><br/><span>“What did he </span><em><span>do</span></em><span>? What was so bad that Orakçi went after him?”<br/><br/></span>Mikasa was strangely calm about all this. She had not taken her eyes off the road for most of the time they had been talking, disconcertingly composed. She was always like this. Calm as the glass smooth surface of a lake. Sasha had no idea how she did it. If Sasha had seen all the things that Mikasa had seen, done anything she had done, she didn’t know how she would handle it. <br/><br/>“He was running a gang down in Maria, and we’re pretty certain that he had people killed. And...about that, Sasha, will you do that favour for me?” <br/><br/>“What? Sure, but you can’t just stop there!” Sasha responded, with a twinge of confusion.<br/><br/>Mikasa suddenly parked the car amidst the darkened shadows of a street corner. Sasha had the odd impression of an almost horror film like scene, where the unsuspecting victim was trapped in a car with the murderer, and they had finally arrived at the destination of the murder. <br/><br/>Not that she thought Mikasa was a murderer or anything. She just happened to be the scariest person Sasha had ever met. Which made the weird attraction she felt towards her even stranger, but she decided not to examine that too closely. <br/><br/>“You have to promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” the dark haired girl forcefully pressed, “Not even the press know, so this can’t come out, have you got that?”<br/><br/>“Y-yes.” Sasha cringed slightly at how squeaky that came out.<br/><br/>Mikasa tilted her head slightly, and bored her eyes into Sasha’s, like she was struggling to decide whether or not she should trust her or not. Whatever she saw in Sasha’s wide amber eyes seemed to set her at ease slightly, so she continued.<br/><br/>“Your friend, Christa; she was at Reiss’ house last night. She’s the one who found him.” <br/><br/>Christa Renz? Christa fucking Renz? Otherwise known as the sweetest, most angelic person Sasha had ever met? She was at Reiss’ house last night? Sasha has shared a criminalistics class with her for the past two years, and she had always seemed like the last person to be involved in something shady. <br/><br/><span>“Why? Why would </span><em><span>she</span></em><span> have ever gone within ten miles of a creep like that?” Sasha exploded, lost in complete and utter confusion. <br/><br/></span>“She said that she was his daughter. And that her real name was Historia.”<br/><br/>“Wha-?!”<br/><br/>“Sasha, I need you to keep an eye on her.”<br/><br/>The words were short, brutal, and Sasha ground to a halt as soon as she heard them. And all of a sudden, she was angry and was going to spit out that she would never spy on her friend like that, that she’d been raised better than that before Mikasa cut her off. <br/><br/>“She just saw her father die. I’m not sure how close they were but this has got to be hard. Her name will end up tangled up in all this somehow, and I need you to be there for her for that. Some people are already talking about her possible involvement in all this, but I don’t think they’re right. I need you to make sure she has people backing her up when the time comes, because I do not want to waste time chasing after someone innocent.”<br/><br/>Sasha blinked. Well that was unexpected.<br/><br/>She nodded cautiously, and said,“Sure, I can do that.”<br/><br/>Mikasa leaned back in her seat, satisfaction softening her features.<br/><br/>“Good.”<br/><br/>For a beat, the two of them sat there, in a silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable. <br/><br/>“Can we go home now?” Sasha asked in a small voice, amber eyes peaking through her scarlet fringe as she looked at Mikasa. <br/><br/>At the word “home” Mikasa didn’t smile, but the flint-like edge to her dark eyes seemed to blunt slightly. <br/><br/>“Sure.”<br/><br/>So, the two girls drove off into the night flooded streets of Paradis, with each other as unlikely comforts. </p><hr/><p>Over in a cramped office in the Trost Police Department’s station, a story shifted from an untold path, sinking into a blood soaked future. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is unbeta'd but ah well. Alma is an interesting character to write, cause we don't really know much about her other than that she is a truly terrible mother. I see her as being a bit young (too young to be honest) when Reiss was in a relationship with her, and I hope that her immaturity and perhaps spitefulness shows up well in how I write her. I hope you guys liked this chapter, and as always, I am open to criticism of this fic &lt;33 Ooh also, fuck Isayama for what he did to Historia's character (I read chapter 139 and I am still pissed about that).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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